


Sam Resouled

by mistyzeo



Series: Holiday Ficlets 2010 [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-26
Updated: 2011-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-15 04:03:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/156865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyzeo/pseuds/mistyzeo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for <a href="http://mickeym.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://mickeym.livejournal.com/"><b>mickeym</b></a>: Sam resouled, with snuggles and kisses and a little bit of crying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sam Resouled

**Author's Note:**

> spoilers for 6x11

When the light afterburn finally fades from Dean’s eyes his ears are still ringing, but Sam is lying still and silent. Bobby gives him a look, like he’s afraid of him, like he can’t believe what Dean’s done. But Dean hasn’t done _anything_ , not really. That’s all Death. He hasn’t touched Sam in days, weeks, and now— maybe he has done something after all.

His knees sting from the impact against the concrete floor, and he’s unlocking Sam’s wrists without thinking and cradling his brother’s head. He puts his cheek against Sam’s lips and for a horrifying, stomach-clenching moment he thinks Sam isn’t breathing. But Sam inhales suddenly and lets out a groan, a mere fraction of the noise he made not a minute earlier while his everlasting soul was shoved back into his chest.

Then Sam’s voice, raw and tired, “Dean?”

“Sammy,” Dean hears himself saying, clutching at Sam. “Is that you, man? Tell me it’s you.”

“Dean,” Sam breaths, and his eyes are open and wide with surprise. “Where are we?”

Dean feels a little like crying. “Bobby’s,” he says, biting the inside of his cheek and stroking hair away from Sam’s face. “You okay?”

“I’m—“ Sam says, frowning, the familiar crease appearing between his eyebrows, and it feels like Dean hasn’t seen him _confused_ in— well, in over a year. He hasn’t seen him _anything_. Even something so small feels like a benediction. “I’m not— I’m not sure,” Sam says. “What happened since— jesus, how long has it been?”

“I don’t know,” Dean says honestly. He leans back as Sam moves to sit up, and he sits down on the edge of the cot, his hip pressed into Sam’s bent knee. He can’t stop touching him, running a hand up the outside of Sam’s thigh, just to feel him there. He imagines he can feel Sam’s soul under his skin, through the denim of his jeans, just like he can feel the warmth of his live body. “Forever.”

“I was in hell, I think,” Sam says slowly. He shakes his head, as if to clear it, and Dean grabs his shoulders.

“Don’t push it,” he says. “Don’t— don’t try to remember hell, Sam.”

“I’m not sure I want to,” Sam says, and the look he gives Dean from behind his hair is wonderful in its irritated fondness. Dean stares at him for a second, and then clutches Sam to his chest like he’s a kid again. Sam is here, and Sam is his, and Dean’s not letting go ever again. How many times he’s said that to himself he can’t even count, but this time he’s not letting anything get between them. Even maybe his own ego, if he can stand it.

Sam hugs back, long arms coming up to wrap around Dean’s back, and the air rushes out of him as Sam squeezes. Sam presses his face into the crook of Dean’s neck and just breathes. Dean wonders briefly what Bobby is seeing— and then he remembers the faint tread of Bobby’s boots on the basement stairs. Sam’s like his son, but that very fact got Bobby into a spot of trouble, so Dean doesn’t really blame him. Leave Dean to deal with him if things go to shit, Dean figures.

“What do you remember about the last year, though? Anything?” Dean asks finally, wrapped tight in Sam’s embrace. It’s the wrong question, of course, because Sam takes a breath like he’s going to speak, and then he stops, gives a little moan, and bursts unexpectedly into tears.

Sam doesn’t cry much— and even less, lately— but when he does cry he goes all out, sobbing and weeping, blotchy face and tears everywhere. It doesn’t feel like the psychotic breakdown of a hundred and fifty years in the pit, though, so Dean just hugs him tighter, at a loss, and Sam soaks Dean’s neck while his shoulders shake.

“Dean,” Sam hiccups, “the things I did, man! You have no fucking idea. Oh, God.”

“It’s okay, man,” Dean says into his hair, even though he knows it’s totally not, and he’s spent six months saying it isn’t, “wait, listen.”

“It’s _not_ okay!” Sam howls, and Dean pushes him back to look into his (yes, rather blotchy, ridiculous) face. Sam coughs and struggles to control himself, but tears leak down his face and his lower lip trembles. Jesus.

“It’s over,” Dean says. “You’re here, and you’re not a robot anymore, which is a big improvement.” Sam manages half a laugh in between his hitching breaths. Dean gives him a little shake and says it again, just for good measure. “You’re here. It’s over.”

And then— Jesus Christ, and then— Sam surges forward and kisses him, hard and deep, and Dean can’t do anything but kiss him back. Sam tastes like salt and fear but his tongue is slick and skillful, and his hands slide up Dean’s shoulders like he’s been planning this. Dean clutches at his back, his arms, his hair, biting at his lips and licking into his mouth. Sam’s moan this time is less terrified and more relieved. It vibrates through him and makes Dean startle, pulling away.

“Wait,” he says, breathless, wiping the back of his hand across his kiss- and tear-wet mouth. “Sammy, wait.”

“Dean,” Sam says, eyes wide. He looks torn apart, a riot of emotion he hasn’t felt in forever, and Dean cups his face.

“We gotta talk about this,” Dean says carefully. God forbid. His stomach is hot and twisting with want and love, and talking is the last thing he wants to do.

“Later,” Sam says. Watching his face is like watching a flip-book, one thing after another: lust, want, hope, fear, joy, sorrow, apprehension. It’s dizzying.

“Okay,” Dean says after a second, leaning in again to meet Sam in the middle, “Later.”


End file.
